


Make My Soul into Amethyst (Then I'll Never Have to Leave)

by Le_kunokimchi



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drabble, Flirting, Fluff, Horrance, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ben is a bartender, klaus is his favorite customer, they are not related in this, woah no incest tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_kunokimchi/pseuds/Le_kunokimchi
Summary: Ben knew the man was not a good person to get involved with; if they ever did something together, it wouldn’t mean anything more than all the other people who have had their turn (not to mention that he was clearly on something or another; when it’s not the cigarettes or the alcohol, he’s ordering food to satisfy his drug-induced munchies).He wanted someone to talk to, someone that actually enjoyed his company; he was lonely with no friends or family to call his own. And if that meant he would look forward to his shift at work every day just so he could see his favorite frequenter, then so be it.(OR the one where Ben works the nightshift at a local bar and finds himself attracted to a very bad influence that just so happens to be one of their regulars)
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	Make My Soul into Amethyst (Then I'll Never Have to Leave)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [springonions_withranch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/springonions_withranch/gifts).



> I was given my first gift the other day... I am very flattered and happy that I was able to inspire someone and get them into one of my favorite ships.
> 
> So, to express my gratitude, I wrote this little drabble for you springonions_withranch

It was an ordinary Tuesday night for Ben: slow and a few of the usuals, just him behind the counter as he polishes the spotty glasses and makes the occasional drink. 

It was currently 12:15 sharp so he began wiping down the counters; he gets off in an hour and this was always the most dead part of the night-shift. Maybe not on a Saturday or a Friday night, or even when the college kids flock home for the holidays. But tonight, it was just him and the Mr. John Doe who sits in the far booth and orders one drink for the entire night.

It’s not really his problem (even if he considers it bizarre); he doesn’t tend to get too personal with the customers. He was depicted as the quiet and thoughtful bartender: the listening type that would hear your drunken rants and he’d just patiently nod or shake his head. People liked him, thought he was a polite good-looking young man. Although they never understand how someone like him ever got a job at an establishment quite like this (he’s not really sure either if he’s being honest); he spends his days attending classes and his nights at the bar. It was a simple and sometimes repetitive lifestyle; getting home at 1:30 am and heating up a meal for one in the microwave seemed to be the only highlight of the day.

Of course, though, not every day at work was a bad one. There was  _ one  _ frequenter that he has actively started conversing with on more than one occasion (which wasn’t very typical of him but this man was quite the peculiarity and as an English and psychology major, it was hard  _ not  _ to strike up a conversation.) And he’d be lying if he said the man wasn’t appealing to the eyes: tall, the slightest accent to his voice, striking forest green eyes, a full head of medium length chestnut curls, and a dazzling smile. He appeared strung out more often than not but that didn’t make him any less interesting to talk to; he kind of just did and said whatever he wanted to without a care in the world.

He’d drink until his legs wobbled beneath him, choosing then to lure some sorry sucker under his spell (Ben will admit that the man was quite alluring to either gender that came in looking for some fun; sometimes he helped him pick out a decent looking person to make sure he would get home safely and come back without injury, other times he had to look away because a strange bitterness would bubble on his tongue).

He always had a crazy story to share (whether it be entirely appropriate to tell a total stranger, Ben never questioned) but would also inquire little things about Ben’s life that weren’t enormously private or personal; and if he ever sensed that the bartender wasn’t willing to share, he never once judged but instead would smile reassuringly and change the topic. Ben felt comfortable around him despite their juxtaposing personalities and they could just talk for hours without ever feeling awkward or having to tie strings.

More than once, he has considered asking for the man’s name but something always holds him back; he guesses it’s because this was not the best person to get attached to. Names meant familiarity and acquaintanceship; names were beyond the definition of a stranger or professional courtesy (although Ben is required to wear a name tag, the man has never once acknowledged it). Perhaps, names meant attachment to the man as well, never asking for (or remembering) the names of his many one-night stands that filtered in and out of the bar.

The intriguing regular wasn’t interested in something real: the fact that it was all fake and superficial made him feel secure (he didn’t have to worry about fucking up something good, didn’t have to worry about the responsibilities that came with having a partner. There were no restraints, just freedom). And because of this, Ben knew he just  _ was not  _ a good person to get involved with; if they ever did something together, it wouldn’t mean anything more than all the other people who have had their turn (not to mention that he was clearly on something or another; when it’s not the cigarettes or the alcohol, he’s ordering food to satisfy his drug-induced munchies). And then things would be awkward if they hooked up (even if Ben begrudgingly admits that he  _ really wants _ to) and the man would most likely never come to the bar again or at least during his shift; he didn’t want to risk that, he wanted to hold onto this illusion a little longer. He wanted someone to talk to, someone that actually enjoyed his company; he was lonely with no friends or family to call his own. And if that meant he would look forward to his shift at work every day just so he could see his favorite frequenter, then so be it. 

Although, as he said before, today has been slow; in fact, the last few weeks have been pretty slow. The man hasn’t appeared at all for a while; usually, he’s here four to five days a week around 9 until an hour before closing time. Ben would like to think that he comes during that specific time and stays that long for him; but, perhaps, that was just when he gets off work or, if he doesn’t have a job, when he wants someone to take home every night (the details are too personal for him to desire asking, even if he’s  _ really  _ curious; either way, he doesn’t judge). 

John Doe finally stands, leaving a stingy tip on the table as he exits the establishment. Ben comes out from behind the bar to pick it up; perhaps he could close early tonight? That sounded nice: he had a pack of Korean ramen sitting in the pantry that has been calling his name all day. After he eats, he could go to bed early and then finally wake up on time for class tomorrow; yes, this sounded wonderful. 

He clears the table and heads into the kitchen to drop off the dishes; all he needed to do now was transfer the cash into the deposit box and grab his keys-

He hears the distinct squeaking of the front door over the 90s hits that were always playing on the speakers and the soft roaring of crowds on the flatscreen’s sports channel. 

Ben sighs, tossing the towel to the side as he reenters the bar (it was just his luck that someone would walk in now of all times). 

“Sorry, we’re closed-” he begins before his gaze lands on the individual who just walked in.

His eyes widened, mouth agape. 

It was _ him _ .

Ben snaps out of his stupor and quickly readies the man’s usual as he slumps onto the stool and holds up two fingers. 

He looked like a wreck: eyeliner smudged beyond fashionably appropriate, hair tangled and skewed in every direction, clothes mildly tame compared to his usual daring attire. His eyes were red but the puffy bags that accompanied suggested that it was perhaps not from drugs this time. The lively sparkle usually within those irises was dimmed beyond recognition, smiles lines making him look old and worn with his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Ben hands him his drink and he gives the faintest of smiles in response.

“Haven’t seen you here in a while,” Ben says casually, preparing the second glass. 

“It has been a very…  _ long  _ week,” the man replies with a voice saturated in exhaustion, eyes vacantly staring at the counter.

Ben frowns. “It’s only Tuesday.”

“Is it?” the man looks up and blinks a few times, “Oh man, my bad.”

That concerns the bartender slightly, holding off to give the man his other glass until he finished the first one.  _ It’s none of his business _ ; he tells himself as much but he finds himself wiping off his hands and leaning over the counter a little to get a better view of his nightly visitor. 

“You look like shit,” he comments (any other customer wouldn’t have received such an unprofessional and rude conversation starter but he knows that the man won’t be offended; the blunt and honest two-cents were kind of their schtick). 

The man huffs a laugh, chugging the last of his drink and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Yeah, I bet.”

Ben just peers at him in thought, elbow propping up his chin. “You know, I was going to close early.”

The man meets his eyes before a subtle smirk pulls on his lips. “But you stayed open just for me? How cute.”

Ben shifts, putting more weight on one leg than the other. “That was me politely suggesting that you should hurry up so I can go home.”

“Your polite way...” he looks down at his empty glass, “Wow, I can’t imagine you when you’re pissed off with a customer.”

“Would you like to see me pissed off?”

“Ah, come on,” the man cooed, glancing back up to wink, “You know you missed me.”

  
  


Ben’s lip twitched. “I guess it was pretty quiet without my daily dose of crazy.”

“Crazy?” he scoffed, “Darling, I’m your daily dose of  _ everything _ . You know how boring all the people in here are?”

“You would know, wouldn’t you? Since you’ve been with almost every single one of our regulars and two of the other bartenders.”

The man leans on one of his hands, the twinkling in his eyes returning. “Been keeping track, have we? Almost sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

Ben’s cheeks flush ever so slightly, scowling at him. “You wish. People just like to talk and I happen to be a very good listener.”

The man smirks, his eyelids lowering suggestively. “All good things, I can assume. I don’t usually get complaints; a solid eight out of ten on even my worst of days.”

Ben snorts, rolling his eyes fondly. “Normally when someone has an ego that big, it's because they are trying to compensate for something."

The man titters at that, gesturing for his second drink as he says, "I'm like bondage: don't knock it until you try it."

Ben bites his lip, sliding the drink to him as he rings him up on the register. 

"Cash today?" He said with a clear of his throat.

"Depends."

Ben raises an eyebrow. "On?"

"If fifty dollars," he rolls his tongue on the L's, "is enough to cover the drinks  _ and _ you."

Ben stops, looking at him incredulously. "You think you can just  _ buy _ me?"

"What, are you not on the menu?" the man smiles cheekily, "Tell me there's someone else you're saving yourself for then."

Ben squirms slightly, his black slacks, vest, and crimson button-up feeling too revealing all of a sudden. "And what if I told you that you couldn't _ afford  _ me?" He asked flusteredly, staring at the money in the register in confliction. 

"So you  _ are _ available; good to know."

The bartender opens his mouth and then closes it, confusion crossing his face.  _ So does he not wish for his company tonight? _

"That's a bizarre way to ask someone if they're single," Ben mumbles, slightly embarrassed as he snatches the fifty and gives the man his change. 

"That's a bizarre way to react for someone who was trying to kick me out a while ago."

Ben huffs, slamming his hands down on the counter as whips to face him. "You're infuriating; you know that, right?"

The man leans forward, putting only a couple of inches between them. Ben holds his breath.

"And you're a tease: always standing behind this counter, taunting me with that which I cannot have. You know how bad I wanna mess up that perfectly styled hair of yours? I don't even like this drink; I only order it because I like watching you make it. From the look you get when you're concentrating on how much liquor is being poured into the glass to the subtle quirk of your lips as you place the orange-slice garnish."

Ben's eyes resemble saucers, blinking at him in surprise. He only ordered that drink because he liked the way  _ he  _ made it? He is  _ that _ interested in  _ him _ ? He thought Ben was  _ purposefully _ teasing him? 

"God, don't look at me like that," the man murmurs, "Your innocent face is too irresistible _. _ "

Ben inhales sharply, his gaze lowering to the man's lips. "I don't even know your name," he whispers.

"I'll tell you for a kiss," the man bargains without hesitation.

Ben is definitely considering it. He stammers, “You’re drunk.”

The man snickers, his breath mingling with Ben’s. “No, I’m not, I’m wearing my amethyst bracelet today.”

He does a double-take. “Huh?”

“Amethyst: it protects the wearer from drunkenness.”

A full smile slips onto Ben’s face as he chuckles. “Where did you hear that from? (I think the drugs have fried your brain).”

“Greece.  Αμέθυστος, as in ‘not intoxicate’. (And I’ve been sober for a month,  _ thanks  _ for asking).”

The bartender’s brow raises, the smallest hint of pride on his face before the first half of the comment registers to him. “You speak Greek?”

“As well as eight other languages,” the man leans even closer, his breath smelling sweet and citrusy like the second tequila sunrise he was nursing, “I can introduce myself in all eight if you want.”

_ This is so stupid _ , Ben thinks before grabbing the stranger by the collar and capturing his lips in a heated kiss.  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid  _ but a spark of excitement shoots through him and he can’t help wanting to take a chance tonight, especially when a sweet-tasting tongue brushes against his own. 

He pulls away with a slight pop, having to look away from those fiery olive eyes before he goes jumping over the counter right into the man’s lap. “English first,” Ben mutters huskily, frantically fishing around in the basket beneath the counter for his keys.

“I’m Klaus,” his breath catches in his throat at the sight of the gorgeous grin the man flashes him, “It’s nice to finally be acquainted with you, Ben.”

On a better thought, perhaps he’ll just skip tomorrow’s classes altogether. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed~


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